Transformation

[Acorn]

He shouldn't be surprised by Orvar, but he was. Vampires were still news to him, though apparently they'd been lurking around for a long fucking time — Orvar had said he was a little over six centuries old, but that the woman who'd turned him into a creature that drank blood and had to get werewolves to pull curtains for him, was easily twice that.

Rita had warmed to Orvar at their first meeting, when the vampire had stalked them to their hotel after she'd started asking questions about the rogue group he led. Leon tried to follow her lead, but every time he moved so fast he couldn't track it with his eyes, drank blood from a wine glass, or stared at him without breathing or blinking, he forgot that beneath the creepy exterior, Orvar was a man who dropped everything to help Rita when she needed it.

He deposited the glass back on the table once Rita had finished and then eased himself into the position he'd been when she'd first regained consciousness; curled up on his side facing her. He'd felt like a heel when she'd cried out in pain because she'd tried to sit up, wished he'd been quicker to go to her instead of making her think she needed to come to him, but it was over: she had the medicine in her now and soon she'd feel some relief. His face was close enough he could feel the warmth of her breath, and he brought the arm that wasn't pillowed under his head up between them and recaptured one of her hands in his. He ran his thumb over each of her knuckles, back and forth, as he looked at her.

"Slept some earlier. I'll sleep again when you do." Food, on the other hand, wasn't something he'd had much of. "Think I had some beef jerky yesterday," he said after he searched his memory. "Pretty good. Little tough, though." He smiled and brought her hand up to nudge his nose against the back, then pressed his lips against the same spot. "I'll get some food later, too. Don't worry. Not gonna starve to death between now and then."

He took a breath, then continued tackling her last question: "And everyone's fine. Becca's exhausted after she… Did you know she can pull bullets out and heal people with her mind? Me either, but she can. She did." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Saved your life. Nate, too. Like I said, he drove straight here without a break so Becca and I could sit with you in the back. Don't know what I— what we would've done without them."

 

[Meraki]

The painkillers hit fast. One moment she was in searing pain the next it began to lull and pull her under. Her heartbeat quickened at the feeling, almost frightened at the feeling of letting go. She didn't want to sleep again, she didn't want to close her eyes and fight for her life. She was so, so tired. After everything, her body still needed to heal, but she just wanted to stay with Leon. She wanted to see his eyes and hear the warm, comforting tone of his voice. She wanted to feel his lips against her hand, over and over again. More than anything, she wanted to get up. She wanted to throw herself at him and hold him with every bit of strength in her body. She wanted to kiss him over and over and over again.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him without having to catch her breath in between.

"And you wanted to dump him…i-in the woods," she laughed a breathy laugh before it felt into a few painful coughs. Her lungs felt an immeasurable pressure on them, but she realized that everything was just slowing down. She was tired, so tired, and the pain medication wasn't helping. Soon enough, she'd be passed out again and she only hoped she did not have to claw her way back. She remembered Leon's words from the van and tried her best to just breathe. "I knew they could do it. One of the…last things I remember was Nate transforming, he—must be exhausted. All of you."

"You should sleep—" she yawned, "I'll be…fine."

Even shot, Rita seemed to never be able to shut off the motherly instinct in her. She just wanted them all to rest, to be okay, and she hated that she had put them through so much even if she couldn't control it. "I love you," she said to Leon, a sleepy smile on her lips and her blinks grew heavier and heavier, "b-but did you really have to use scissors to…cut my shirt – when you have werewolf claws?"

 

[Acorn]

Leon lifted his head off his arm and watched with concern etching lines in his brow as she coughed and struggled, helpless to do more than hold her hand and wait for the fit to pass. When she settled and started talking again, he lowered his head but still wore something of a frown as he processed what she'd said. The last thing she remembered was Nate transforming? He didn't remember Nate transforming, he just remembered Nate flanking Lorelei while he attacked from the front. Had Nate changed before or after he'd grabbed up Jackson's face in his palm and then slammed his head into the asphalt until it'd burst like a watermelon?

He hadn't felt anything but rage and an overwhelming need to make it so Jackson couldn't hurt her anymore, and he'd accomplished that soundly. There was no way a dead man would ever aim a gun at her again. But shouldn't he feel bad about taking another man's life? He didn't. Not when the life was Jackson's. If he had it to do again, he would do the same thing without a second thought. Jackson had meant to kill her, he'd had his gun leveled at her, finger on the trigger— if he'd hesitated, if he'd let Jackson get back up, get his gun again, he would've lost her. He knew that. Then why couldn't he just fucking tell Rita?

Hey, I murdered Jackson.

Just slide it in into the conversation. What's the worst that would happen? She'd see him differently? Stop looking at him in the warm, loving way she normally did? Her newly minted boyfriend: werewolf and murderer. Wasn't she a lucky lady?

Leon dragged himself back to the conversation, made himself focus on her words and how she'd ended up with her shirt cut down the middle instead of Jackson. "I didn't do it," he said, "there was a doctor in the story. Forgot to mention him. He was kind of an asshole." When her eyes started drifting shut, he leaned forward to meet her lips with his and let the kiss linger. When he finally pulled away it was only enough to separate their lips, then he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"I love you, too."

Leon didn't go back to sleep. He held her as tightly as he could without hurting her and watched her while she slept. He would've remained like that until she woke up, but there was a flurry of buzzes from his phone and he grunted, then flopped his arm behind him until he found the rectangular device and rolled over just enough that he could hold it in front of his face and read the notifications.

Becca.

She was awake and asking about Rita. How was she? Orvar said she was awake. Was she still awake? When could they see her?

Even as he tapped a response, she sent another dozen questions with an increasing number of question marks after each one.

She took pain meds. Sleeping now. Sorry.

Her reply was a series of frowny faces lined up in a disappointed row, but thankfully the onslaught stopped after that. From Becca, at least. After that, it was Orvar, and throughout the morning, the vampire brought plates of food into their room, a pitcher of water with some glasses and more bendy straws, and surprisingly, a deck of cards. It seemed Rita had some competition for being top mama hen in the roost. Before Orvar left the final time, he stopped next to Leon where he sat perched on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on his shoulder; it was cold and Leon flinched involuntarily, but Orvar didn't remove his hand. Leon grimaced then looked up at him.

"You smell," Orvar took a deep breath, his eyes becoming mere slits, "like a flower." Leon pulled a face at him, and Orvar lifted an eyebrow in response. "Allow me to explain. There's a flower that only blooms two or three times over the course of a hundred years. When it does bloom, it smells of rotting flesh; it's to attract flies and other pollinators. That's the flower you smell like. Please do Rita a kindness and shower before she wakes again."

As soon as Orvar left, Leon showered. On a normal day, he could easily spend half an hour just standing there letting the hot water work out all his tensions, but he needed to see Rita, needed to be there in case she wanted his help, so he washed and rinsed in record time and was back at his post sitting next to her in a fresh shirt and jeans, his damp curls coiled up in ringlets.

Then he waited.

 

[Meraki]

The next time Rita woke, some of the pressure was gone from her chest. She was still in pain, quite a bit of it, but she felt like it was easier to open her eyes. She did not spend so much time between consciousness and unconsciousness and pulled out easily from the darkness of her own mind. She didn't dream, it seemed the pain killers pulled her far too under for that sort of thing, but she did feel a bit more rested. Her bones were tired, her muscles aching and crying for relief, but the relief she felt was a bit inexplicable. She just felt a bit lighter, like the worst of it was behind them, and thank god for that because Rita had no intentions of dying.

And when she fluttered her eyes open to see Leon there, a soft smile found her lips. Him, too. She could see the heaviness in his expression and the thoughts behind his eyes. She knew he was scared and worried, and she just wanted to be back on her feet for him. That, however, seemed entirely out of the question since Rita could not even manage to sit up at that point, let alone prove to Leon she was entirely right as rain. No, he was way too smart for that.

"Hi," she breathed out through a yawn and felt the breath back in her lungs. It felt good not to labor through every word, but she was certain that her body still needed some time to get back into a normal rhythm. She had no intentions of pushing it too far. Her hand came up to reach his hair, brushing back the clean curled locks and she could not help the real, genuine smile that spread across her lips. There was a moment where she was afraid she would never see him again, but every moment she got to wake up to him was a blessing. She knew that now and she would not take it for granted. There was a comforting smell of shampoo in the air, mixed along with the summer smells of New Orleans, and she wondered how terrible she looked. She felt like a train wreck and she would have given anything to have a shower or at least change her clothes.

But yet again – sitting up seemed far too difficult a task.

Between loving touches and their impossible closeness, Leon told her that Becca and Nate wanted to see her. To which, she nodded gently and shifted her weight a little, a familiar and searing pain shooting through her. Within moments there was a knock at the door and she saw it creak open slowly to reveal Becca and Nate. Becca seemed uncertain, timid as she took a few steps into the room. "Man, you look fucking terrible," Nate said finally with a shake of his head and Rita let out a warm laugh. It was gentle and she tried not to jostle herself too much, but it was there.

"Easy, tough guy," she exhaled with a smirk, "Try getting shot and see how great you look."

He smirked back, his arms crossing against his chest as he took a few steps in. "Good to see you, though. Everything was basically shot to shit without you."

"I don't know about that," she winced as she shifted to look at him with that knowing Rita look, "From what I heard the three of you managed to get…quite a bit done."

Nate rolled his eyes, but it was more playful than it had ever been. He did note her difficulty catching her breath through the waves of pain. "Easy," he scolded her, "I don't think Orvar has time for you to bleed all over his van and his guest bed."

Rita's eyes found Becca's as the woman stood off towards the door with an uncertainty in her eyes that Rita had not seen for quite some time. "You ok?" Rita asked and the red head nodded, but she wasn't buying it.

"You know," Rita exhaled, "I also heard that you saved my life twice. I knew you had it in you."

"Thank you, Becca."

 

[Acorn]

Wordlessly, Becca inched towards the bed while Nate bantered with Rita, one arm reached across her so she could clasp her elbow. Even Leon, who'd mainly been paying attention to each caught breath and wince that signaled it was nearing time for Rita to take another of her pain pills, noticed how oddly she was acting and cocked his head at her. When Rita thanked her in the earnest way only Rita could, Becca released her arm and rushed towards her, dropping to her knees next to the bed. She reached over the side, grasped at one of Rita's hands, and her chin quivered as she looked at the bedridden woman, her brown eyes already filled to the brim with tears.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried. I wanted to do more, heal it all the way, but I couldn't. I got so tired, and I almost didn't—" She sniffled and her face crumpled like a rolled up piece of paper and she clutched Rita's hand tightly. "I can try again, maybe? See if I can do better. Maybe I can get those witches to come back, show me what to do."

"Becca," he said, and she looked up at him, her face already red and splotchy, tears streaming down her face. "You forget the part where you saved her life? Twice?"

"But—"

"No. No but. End of story. You did good."

She stared at him, her expression blank until it took on a determined edge and she used her free hand to brush back the hair that'd adhered to the wetness on her face, then wiped the rest of her face clean. "But I can do better," she said, and sniffed. "I'll do better."

He realized that everyone he knew in the house, they might not love Rita with the same dogged ferocity he did, but they still cared enough to do whatever they could for her. Becca, Nate, even Orvar; they recognized that she was special and that she was worth saving, even if they'd only known her a short time. He wondered if she realized how the group gathered with her at their center, and how lost they'd been without her. How was it Nate had tactlessly put it? Everything had been shot to shit without her, he'd said to the woman with a gunshot wound.

Leon shook his head and scooted off the bed, then made his way to the table Orvar had left the food, water, and pack of cards on. "Y'all hungry? Thirsty? Bored? Orvar brought cards." He glanced back at Rita, then filled a glass with water that he plopped a neon green bendy straw into. He'd need to get her to eat, too, since she hadn't had anything since before she got shot, and food was required fuel for healing. "Have about fifteen minutes before I kick everyone out. Gotta get Rita her next round of meds and check her bandage."

He should probably help her out of that crusted bloody shirt, too, and try to wash her off the best he could with a wet rag.

She'd make him a nurse yet.

 

[Meraki]

"Easy," Rita said gently to Becca as she quivered and wept at her side, her hand clasping Rita's as if she was afraid to let go, "No need to get yourself worked up, okay? You did an amazing job. And just think, if that's what you can do without training, I know that you'll be able to accomplish whatever you set your mind to, alright?"

She could feel Becca relax at her side and Rita squeezed her hand affectionately. "I can take it from here. You've done plenty, Becca. More than plenty. Both of you." She eyed Nate who scoffed and brushed it off, but there was a bit more affection in his tone, like he was trying to play up some front she had finally broken through. Between her and Leon, Becca seemed to accept that she had done just fine, better than fine, and Rita watched as a small look of determination found her eyes. It reminded Rita of herself a little bit, back before she accepted that her life was going to be madness. Everyone had a moment where they had to decide whether or not they wanted to keep fighting and in that moment, she saw Becca solidify her decision. Good, she was far too talented to let it go to waste.

Leon's voice broke Rita out of her thoughts as she tried to shift herself up a little higher on the pillows. She winced and inhaled sharply at the pain radiating from her abdomen, but managed to shift just slightly up enough that it didn't feel awkward speaking with everyone. "You losers know how to play poker?" Nate asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nah, my dad's real good at it though," Rita mentioned as she caught her breath and settled back in, "He tried to teach me a few times, but he got frustrated and gave up. I could never sit still for long."

"Your parents still alive?" Nate asked, "Never heard you talk about them before."

"Oh yeah," she nodded gently, "they're alive and well back in North Carolina."

"Do they know about all this?"

"Oh hell no," she laughed a bright and warm sound, despite the heaviness of her breathing, "My mother is like straight out of Gone With The Wind, and once you lie to a Southern mother, you better be ready to that that lie to the grave or else your ass will be disowned so fast you won't know up from down."

Not that Rita had any desire to tell her parents about the existence of supernaturals. They were content living their little naïve human life and she would never through a wrench in that for anything. They deserved to live the life they wanted and to believe their daughter was whoever they wanted her to be. As much as she didn't spend time with her parents anymore, or visit, she wanted them to be happy. They were both creatures of habit and Rita had accepted long ago that she would just have to keep them at arm's length. Though, she did want them to meet Leon. Especially after everything, she felt like he had earned it. It wasn't anything big, but meeting someone's parents, especially hers after the death of chase, was a big step.

"I'll teach you sometime, then," Nate said finally with a shrug, "Poker, I mean."

"I'd like that," she smiled as Leon brought her some water and she took a deep sip of it, letting it ease the tension in her lungs and the dryness of her throat. They all just sat around talking and eventually Nate scooted so Becca, too, could sit on the bed. It was only about ten minutes before Rita started getting tired again and expelled all of her energy. She felt like a leaking faucet but she supposed with a hole in her abdomen, she kind of was. All the while, her hand stayed in Leon's as the two kids excused themselves. No doubt they'd noticed how exhausted she seemed.

All she wanted was to be up on her feet and normal again, but she knew she had to heal. Despite food seeming like the worst form of torture. Leon had promised meds and a new bandage, which excited her. Any chance to stop the pain and clean the blood form her body would be welcomed.

"Hey," she breathed out and tugged him to her, reaching up to pull the collar of his shirt gently towards her so she could capture his lips in her own. "I hate that I can't…come up there," she exhaled with a smile, "so I'll just bring you down here when I want to kiss you, okay?"

 

[Acorn]

When Nate wasn't lobbing insults and scowls at Rita, it turned out he was capable of carrying on a decent conversation. Leon found himself smiling and even occasionally laughing as they all talked. The air felt clearer than it ever had. He didn't expect that they'd always get on as well as they were at that moment because they were all four different people, and arguments were bound to happen with them living in close proximity (probably over stupid shit like who'd eaten the last of something but put the empty box back in the cabinet), but at least the undercurrent of hostility and tension was gone.

Until they found something trivial to bicker over, they'd ride the waves of relief that they'd all made it back from the facility with the grimoire, and Rita was going to be alright. After Nate and Becca left, she proved that handily when she pulled him to her and their lips met. He remained close, lifted his hand to her neck, then curled his fingers around the back and brought his thumb up to swipe a path over her jawline.

"Ain't gonna fight you," he said with a grin. No less than forty-eight hours ago, he'd heard the sound of gunfire and she'd hit the ground, then he'd carried her to the van and watched her fight for her life, and she was already stealing kisses from him. It gave him hope that she'd be back to herself sooner rather than later, and in the meantime, he'd make sure he was close in case she had need of him — for kisses or otherwise. He wanted to stay where he was, holding her in a way that reaffirmed the knowledge that she was alive and on the mend, but he still had a lot of work to do before she could rest, so he kissed her again and then reluctantly excused himself from her.

For someone who couldn't eat human food anymore, Orvar was on top of things. He'd brought up food that could sit out for a while without going bad, and would be easy for Rita to eat on her own; there were a lot of cold cuts, various crackers, and cheese. He made a plate for Rita, left her with a pain pill and her water within reach, then he disappeared into the bathroom to wash his hands and gather everything he'd need to get her cleaned up. Orvar had struck there, too, and left a bowl with several washrags, as well as the first aid kit that went with them practically everywhere but he'd left in the van.

By the time he had the bowl filled with warm water and everything else he needed out on the nightstand next to Rita's side of the bed, she'd eaten at least some of the food and was nibbling on more, but it didn't seem like it was an enjoyable process for her. He waited until she was finished, then took the plate from her and then began what would likely be a harrowing experience for them both if he muddled things up as much as he figured he would. At least she'd be able to recline fully while he figured out what the fuck he was doing.

First, he helped her out of what was left of her shirt, then he guided her until her head was back on her pillow. Once she was settled, he let loose a huge sigh and worked up a smile that was meant to be encouraging, but it even felt plastered on.

"Alright. Let's do this," he announced, then began peeling back the bandage the doctor had placed on; it was soaked through with blood, and Leon kicked himself for not thinking to change it earlier. It wasn't until after he'd cleaned off what he could of the dried blood with painstakingly careful motions that he could really see the wound, and it amazed him that something so goddamned small had nearly taken Rita from him. The bullet had gone through cleanly, leaving a circular hole that he didn't think was any bigger than a dime, but that didn't account for all the damage it'd done as it went through her body and lodged itself there.

He glanced at her, his expression haggard, then put aside the washrag and take up the first aid kit — there wasn't much left to do, he just needed to get a fresh bandage on her and she'd be able to go back to sleep.

"I think I need to take a first aid class if you're gonna keep this sorta thing up," he remarked, smiling wryly.

 

[Meraki]

"Good," Rita smirked against his lips, "Because I could probably still kick your ass."

It was a lighthearted jest in a tumultuous time. She knew that none of this was easy on him, the kids either, but they could only keep moving forward. It did not help any of them to dwell and think of what could have happened. The way Rita saw it – she had two choices: die or survive. She chose survival every time and so did they. They fought tirelessly for her and when she grew tired, they vacated kindly and let her be with Leon who was quick to take up her usual role of caretaker. He kissed her again before pulling away and replacing himself with a plate of food Rita's stomach wanted nothing to do with. It hurt going down, churned in her uneasy stomach, and she only managed very little. She kept trying, though. Especially when she saw how hard Leon was working to try to help her heal. The least she could do was choke down a little food even if it made her nauseous.

Rita tried to reach for the painkiller and water but the stretch caused her to wince and recoil back. Slowly, she was getting better but nothing changed the fact that forty-eight hours prior she had been shot. Recovery periods were long, too long for humans, and she felt a bit of frustration rise in her already tired bones. But Leon returned with the first aid kit and some warm water and she happily allowed him the chance to relieve her of her shirt if it meant the feeling of dry, crusted blood was gone from her skin. She could feel the nervous charge of the air as he coaxed himself through tending to her wound. Unfortunately, Rita could note engage her abs enough to get a glimpse at what he was doing, but she trusted him even if he did not trust himself.

"Oh believe me," she inhaled sharply at the pressure of a new bandage, "I didn't really have intentions of getting shot the first time, let alone a second time. Though…it is rich hearing that from the man who had two bullet wounds the first time we – ah." She closed her eyes and let the wave of pain pass. It wasn't his fault, but it was tender and there was no getting around the fact that it needed to be tended to. "The first time we met. Followed by at least two seizures, might I add."

"At this point, I'm probably certified to teach you a thing or two."

Once he had her bandage on, she reached for his hand and tugged it up gently to rest his palm on her bare sternum, just over her heart where the organ was thudding beneath the skin and bone. She just remembered hearing the thud of her heart in her ears after getting shot and the eerie silence as she began to slip. She figured it meant as much to him to feel it there. She smiled gently, "Hey."

"Thank you for taking such good care of me," she said gently, her words carrying all the love she felt, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you either."

 

[Acorn]

She wasn't wrong about the seizures, but he'd had three bullet wounds; two in his thigh thanks to Alice, Rita's now deceased partner (he imagined the tiny blonde woman would've found it hilarious that he still the scars from their first encounter), and a third right where collarbone met shoulder. The infamous graze. Rita's bullet, instead of embedding itself into his shoulder, had skirted over his skin, leaving a long scar where it'd passed. He'd thought she'd finally acknowledged that it counted as being shot, but she'd said it just after waking up, so maybe she didn't remember.

Leon opened his mouth to remind and tease her about it, but she made a pained sound and he froze. Only two more sides of the non-adhesive gauze needed to be taped up, and he waited until she'd recovered before he finished. All thoughts of poking fun at her fled when she took his hand and placed it on her chest, holding it there so he felt the rhythm of her heart dancing beneath his palm. Involuntarily, his eyes closed and he tilted his head to the side, focused on the warmth of her skin, her heartbeat, and the steady uninterrupted rise and fall of her chest.

There'd been a moment in the van while he held her hand and watched over her, as the night had stretched on into the early morning, that he'd thought there'd been a stillness. He'd put his hand on her chest much like it was now, leaned over her and waited. His own heartbeat had pounded in his head, but he hadn't felt hers. He'd shaken his head, looked at her face and back to where his hand was splayed out, and he'd understood in that moment that if she went away he couldn't bring her back. Then, he'd felt her chest rise and fall, and considered that it'd only been a trick of the early morning light, a misconception powered by paranoia.

But he didn't take his hand off her chest again until they reached New Orleans.

When she spoke to him, her voice somehow even more soft and warm than it usually was, he returned from his memory and looked at her, but the gratitude in her big green eyes was overwhelming and made him look away.

Did she know what she was thanking him for?

"After Jackson shot you," he said before he realized he was talking, "he still had his gun up. He was gonna shoot you again. I made him stop. I—"

Just say it, say it, fucking say it. Don't dance around it, don't pretend like it wasn't what it was. Say it.

"I killed him, Rita."

Leon looked sidelong at her, his mouth uneasy and flipping back and forth from a thin line to a frown as he waited for her reaction.

 

[Meraki]

There it was.

There were a few parts of the story that didn't quite make sense to Rita as she recalled the moments before she passed out. She remembered turning and hearing the gunshot, seeing Jackson and hearing his words. He had told her that he wanted her dead, didn't he? Then suddenly, he was gone. Just gone, out of her line of vision, and all she could see was Leon in wolf form. She remembered seeing his face in the van, the pain of the bullet being pulled from her and then nothing. After that, everything was just dark. Beyond the pain, she could not remember Becca or Nate, or the supposed doctor or arriving in New Orleans. It all happened so fast and even the memories she held were blurry at best.

But she remembered staring down the barrel of a gun and the hot, sticky blood against her skin. He intended to kill her, she knew that, but what she did not realize was that Leon killed him. He ended the life of another human being to protect her life, and she felt a few feelings well up in her. More than anything, she knew the man Leon was, and if he had moved in to kill Jackson, there had to be a good reason.

"He said I was better off dead," she breathed out, "I remember."

She thought back to all the times Jackson had hurt her. The way he had worked against them and prodded into her grief for his own selfish gain. She remembered the feeling of his lips on hers and the strength of his arms around her. He was the only man to ever truly make her feel fear, and she would never forget that. In the moment between gunshots, she remembered seeing his eyes full of rage and revenge. "He would have never stopped," she admitted, "if he managed to kill me, he would have gone after every one of you. And if he didn't, he would have kept trying until he succeeded."

She curled her fingers around his so his splayed hand enclosed on hers and she held it dearly to her chest. "And I'm sorry you had to do that, I'm sorry you had to feel that kind of anger and make that decision," she said gently, "but I stand by what I said, Leon. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, thank you."

She pressed one hand beneath her and despite the inconceivable pain, she grunted her way up enough so she was sitting up at an angle. She rested back on her forearm, unable to make it completely vertical, but she just needed enough leverage to let go of his hand and reach for him. She pulled him gently towards her so she could wrap her arm around his neck and hold him in a warm embrace. "I love you so much, you know that right?" she breathed out, "If I thought I was going to lose you, I would do anything to protect you, too. Without hesitation."

 

[Acorn]

He'd said she'd be better off dead? He hadn't heard that — he'd only seen her on the ground and known in some base, animal part of him that Jackson would kill her. He hadn't hesitated. There hadn't been a decision. He'd reacted instinctually. Whether it'd come from the wolf, him, or some combination of the two, he didn't know, but it hadn't been wrong: it'd saved Rita's life. He'd feared she'd look at him differently knowing what he'd done, that the warmth in her eyes would turn cold, but when he dragged his gaze back to her he was floored by the acceptance and love he saw.

He went to her when she reached for him, carefully looped his arm around her so he could hold her in return, and buried his face in her hair. She understood that he'd done what needed to be done, and she'd do the same for him. He breathed deeply and freely for the first time in what felt like days, unencumbered by fear for Rita's life, fear of what she'd think of him, fear that what they'd become would slip away before they had a chance to explore it fully. Every breath he took, he caught a hint of the smell that was unique to Rita, of her shampoo and something sweeter just beneath that; he smiled when he recognized it. His smile grew at her words, then he nodded against her hair and turned his head to nose his way past the dark strands so he could plant a kiss on her neck.

"I love you too, so fucking much." Leon fought back the compulsion to hold her tightly, squeeze her in his arms to reflect the intensity of his words, but they'd have to stand on their own until she felt better. "I'm gonna put you down now, though, before I hurt you," he said, "or you hurt yourself. Want you better so I can hold you properly." Rather than extracting himself from her entirely and helping her ease back onto the bed like he had before he'd redone her bandage, he shifted so he could recline with her. He curled around her the best he could without getting near her bandage, reached down to grab a handful of the comforter, then dragged it up and over them both.

"Glad we're not back in that hotel," he said as he glanced at the ceiling and its elaborate crown molding, then back to Rita with a lazy smile. "We've got a comfortable bed, fastest room service in New Orleans, and I haven't seen a single rat."

His eyebrows lowered and his mouth slid to the side of his face.

"I bet Orvar eats them," he muttered.

 

[Meraki]

Leon laid her down gently, curling around her with aa much grace as he could manage. He was right, it did hurt. Everything hurt. Sitting up, lying down, breathing, laughing, coughing – all of it. Luckily the pain medication was starting to kick in and Rita felt her entire body starting to grow light. Before it had been a scary feeling – after narrowly evading death she was scared to close her eyes for fear of what she would have to do in order to wake up again. Now, though, she could close her eyes without worry. Leon would be there, Nate and Becca would be there, and she would be a little bit better than before.

She dreaded the thought of standing and trying to move, but for now that wasn't important. She just had to get better, that was all. One day at a time.

"He doesn't eat the rats," Rita said matter-of-factly before letting her lips slip into a wide smile despite her eyes being closed, "But I bet you they've gone through at least four mailmen."

/

"Come on!" Rita hissed, "You have to do this for me."

"If you get hurt while Leon's in the shower, he is going to lock you in this room forever and I'm gonna get my damn throat ripped out," Nate said as he wiped his hand across his face, "It'll take them weeks to identify me, assuming he doesn't also feed me to a alligator."

"It's just sitting up, how hard can it be?"

Rita knew the weight of that statement. It had been a few days since they arrived back in New Orleans and after some proper coddling, she was beginning to feel stir crazy. She needed to feel useful, to do something other than lie in that damn bed and get sponge bathed. In a few days time, she would probably be able to manage a bath with Leon, but for now it was all washcloths and pain. The pain had become a bit more manageable, though she still needed the painkillers for sleep and when she kinked her abs the wrong way (which was every way). Becca had been working with the witches, who arguably had given her little to work with, and Rita just wanted to be there to support her and Nate.

Even if it meant trying to get her upright while Leon was away for two minutes, to convince him that she at least deserved a chance to be carried down and spend time with people in a normal sense. She knew she still looked like hell and was wearing one of Leon's shirts, something loose enough that it could be easily taken on and off, and a pair of leggings that hung low enough on her hips not to aggravate the wound. Her long brown locks were tied up in a messy bun that had taken her twenty minutes to power through.

Damn it, she deserved this. Just a moment of feeling a bit normal.

Nate had been there visiting, one of the only reasons Leon had even let Rita out of her sight, and now she was trying to convince him to conspire with her. IF Leon saw her upright, he'd have to think she was at least ready for a little field trip.

"Fuck," he huffed, "Okay, okay. But only because it'll be good for Becca to see you up and about."

"Hm?" Rita raised a knowing eyebrow, "Since when do you care how Becca feels?" IT was not a rude nor accusatory statement, but a warm, knowing one. She'd seen his eyes flash to her a few times, when Becca wasn't looking.

"Listen, mom," he growled, but hardly menacing, "Do you wanna sit up or not?"

"Yes, yes, yes, please," Rita agreed and brushed aside her comments for a later time, "Come on, help me up. But be gentle, it hurts too much when you pull on the right side."

"Easy does it," Nate said as he reached and gingerly wrapped his arms around her to slowly bring her up to a sitting position. It hurt but nothing seemed to get messed up or start bleeding. Those were all very good signs. She winced quietly and took a deep breath as Nate managed to scoot her back enough so she could rest her back on the headboard. Luckily, the shot wasn't so low that it managed to shift when she bent, but it still tugged uncomfortably at the skin which irritated the wound. Her muscles were far from one hundred percent healed, but everyone needed to take baby steps.

Even if sitting up left a thin veil of sweat on Rita's forehead.

Then they both heard the sound of the water shut off.

"Where are you going?" Rita asked as Nate stood up.

"I am not getting lectured today," he said knowingly, "you're on your own convincing him. You're the only one who can do it, anyway. And don't give me any of the united front bullshit. I'm gonna go check on Becca downstairs, hopefully I'll see you down there."

Rita huffed as Nate smirked at her and made himself sparse. He wasn't wrong. Especially since being shot, Leon had been – territorial? Was that the correct word for it? He was worried, she understood and knew that, but he was also aggressive in his protection of her. Anything that could and would hurt her would not come within a hundred feet of her. With all his struggles concerning his transformation and her getting shot, she understood it – but it certainly made Nate wary of being in the crossfire. After all, he'd said some things to Rita and while Rita forgave them, he had wished for her to get caught by Enforcers.

And that never had and would never sit well with Leon.

When he finally came out of the shower, Rita smiled up at him in only a way Rita could. Her big green eyes gazing up at him with a life they hadn't had the past few days. "Hi," she breathed out, "so, what are the odds you'll let me go down and see everyone? You can carry me if you want, I managed to sit up, see? Only hurt a little bit and nothing's bleeding."

"I'm just going to go crazy if I have to spend another afternoon in this bed. Couldn't we go outside? Or go see Becca? Nate told me she's been working really hard. I think it'd be good for her."

"And me," she added before glancing up, "and you."

 

[Acorn]

Even with Nate in the room looking after Rita while he took a shower, Leon went through the entire process quickly and mechanically: lather, scrub, rinse, dry, and dress. Not for the first day, he bypassed the sink and razor on his way out the bathroom and for his lack of effort, he'd developed a dark scruff that itched mightily. He scratched at the underside of his chin as he went back into the bedroom, expecting that Nate and Rita would still be talking, but dropped his hand and frowned when he saw Rita alone and sitting up.

Before he could rush over and help her back into a position that wouldn't put so much pressure on her still healing wound, she looked at him with her eyes big and warm and his expression softened. He went to her side and sighed as he looked down at her. It'd make him feel better if she stayed in bed until she was fully healed, and he wanted to insist on it, but something in how she'd asked for permission to leave made him pause. She spoke to him like he was a jailer and though he wanted to defend himself, insist that she was free to do whatever she wanted, he knew he couldn't. Rita was right: she hadn't been out of the bed except to use the bathroom for days on end, and the whole time he'd insisted on it.

"Alright," he said resignedly, "reckon if you can sit up in bed, you can sit up in a chair outside." He took her up on her offer to let him carry her and scooped her off the bed, then held her to his chest. Unlike the last time he'd carried her, she didn't require any support beyond that— she was able to loop an arm around his neck and held on while he walked her out and into the hallway. He walked with all the speed of a stoned tortoise, constantly checking her face as he went to make sure there were no signs of pain there.

Under the weight of them both, the old wooden staircase that led downstairs creaked noisily. They hadn't made it halfway before Becca came around the corner and stood at the bottom of the stairs with the biggest grin he'd ever seen on her.

"Rita! You're up!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waited for them.

So much for sitting outside in peace.

The redhead babbled on as they made a detour into the sitting room that she and Nate had been in. Leon got her set up in a chair rather than the couch they usually sat on together because he figured it'd be better for her to have two armrests she could reach easily, but he hoped she wouldn't try to get up on her own. He took the seat closest to her, just in case, and sat perched on the edge with his elbows on either knee and his hands laced together as he watched her.

"Okay, I have something I want to show you," Becca said, her ever-present grin somehow growing larger. She started towards Rita, her hand outreached and without thinking, Leon came to his feet. The witch paused and jerked her head towards him, blinking. Her grin faded and she looked back at Rita uncertainly. "It's just a little healing spell they taught me. I wanted to see if it'd help."

Leon sat back down, but a muscle in his jaw flared and now he watched Becca instead of Rita.

 

[Meraki]

Leon had been right about one thing – moving certainly hurt. Rita did her best to mask the throbbing pain as they descended the steps, but when she saw Becca a genuine smile found her lips. It was nice to be out of that room and for people to look at her with an expression other than worry or pity. There was an excitement in Becca's eyes and it made her happy to know that life was going on, slowly but surely. Leon settled her into a chair and Rita sat back, through she seemed to favor her left side. Understandably, so. Leon took a seat next to her in the adjacent chair, his posture a bit more protective and reserved than she was used to seeing.

Even Nate seemed to notice as he gave her a knowing glance. But she had just almost died, certainly Leon deserved a bit of room to be overprotective.

Becca beamed and approached her with the promise of something amazing, but Rita's eyes immediately shot to Leon as he stood at her approach. "That sounds wonderful Becca," Rita said to her with a smile and shot Leon a look at he settled down. How could he do that to her? After all they had been through together – Becca reserved the right to a little kindness and compassion. "You really think it'll help?"

Becca nodded as her expression softened at Rita's coxing. The girl came up to Rita and hesitated to put her hand near the wound. Rita reached out and slowly brought Becca's hand to her abdomen and laid her hand gently on the fabric covering the bandage. She watched as Becca closed her eyes and there was a warm, golden glow that emanated from her hand. Immediately, Rita's eyes closed in relief. It was like someone had cleared away the uncomfortable pressure – like the drainage of a sinus infection – and she breathed new air into her lungs. The pain relievers dulled everything, but this made her feel lighter and it showed very much on her face.

When Becca was done, she pulled back and was breathing a little heavier, but it was still only a slight pant. "Becca, that was –" she shook her head, "You just learned that? That was exactly what I needed." It felt easier to sit and while it had not done a ton of good, it was still enough to ease Rita's discomfort. "I'm really proud of you – you said you'd get better at healing and you have. Just think of how good you'll be if you keep this up. You could do a lot of good for a lot of people."

And that had to be huge for Becca, considering how jarring and dark Lorelei was.

"But seriously though," she laughed gently, pain still radiating at that intense of an ab movement, "any time you want to do that spell, be my guest."

"Is this all you've been doing since we got back? Practicing?"

 

[Acorn]

From his peripheral, Leon caught the tail end of the look Rita launched at him. If he'd been gracious about it, he would've said that she'd looked at him disbelievingly, but all he read from it was: What the fuck? His eyebrows dipped as he backtracked and tried to figure out what he'd done to warrant the reaction, but Becca reached out towards Rita and all his attention went to her hand.

For a moment, the image of an older woman, curvier and with a malicious smirk instead of a bright smile, superimposed itself over Becca and Leon's lips parted as he sucked in a startled breath of air. He shifted his feet back, leaned forward, made himself ready to stand again, but he came to a halt when he moved his head and the image slid. For a brief second, he could see only Becca, her hands glowing gold over Rita. As he watched, Rita's expression grew peaceful but it didn't have that same fuzziness that it did after she'd had her pain medicine.

Becca had healed — not hurt, just like she'd said.

He closed his eyes tightly, for one second, two, three, then opened them again and Lorelei had disappeared. While Rita expressed her gratitude, Becca continued smiling but she stood slightly hunched, and when she spoke her words were slow, like they were being dragged over fresh asphalt.

"Glad it helped," she said. "And yeah. Except for when they're working with me. Joy said I had an aff… affin… natural. I'm a natural at healing. I still— I need to learn how to pull from outside. Ley lines. They're so pretty, Rita. I wish you could see them." The redhead opened her eyes wide, took a deep breath and breathed out a bursty laugh. "'Til I get that figured out, I need to sit after a spell." She made her way carefully to a chair, and it didn't escape Leon that she took the one farthest away from him even though there were other vacant seats closer.

Something inside him had reached up, dragged and held him down until he'd managed to resurface, and it still had its fucking claws in him; he could feel it picking and peeling at the edges, demanding his attention. Leon tried to focus on Rita, but when he looked at her, the urge to gather her back up and take her some place safe became so strong he had to clamp his hands onto his chair's armrests to keep himself cemented where he was. Rita had wanted to come downstairs; she'd wanted to see Becca. Nothing had happened, nothing would happen. It was Becca, for fuck's sake. Becca: the same girl who'd carefully gather up a spider in a cup and then let it outside rather than killing it on sight.

He tried looking at the walls next, and while they seemed safe enough, they immediately started moving, became a prison without bars, all gray concrete without even a single window. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the walls, but he couldn't escape them. He couldn't run and leave Rita. She needed him to be there to make sure nothing happened.

"They've been teaching me how to read the grimoire, too. Said I could help when it's Nate's turn." Becca stopped, cleared her throat, but when she began talking again her words were sprinkled with pauses. "They're also… really sure we can do it in a way that'll be um… less. Leon, I'm sorry, but would you stop?"

He only managed a questioning grunt in response after he looked at her.

"You're… I don't know. It feels like that time in the restaurant when you almost got into that fight. It's like," She lifted her hands to wiggle her fingers in the air and then shook her head, "bad tingly coming from you. Static. Makes it really hard to think. Please stop."

 

[Meraki]

Rita wished that she could just talk with Becca, but there was something up with Leon that held her complete attention. There was something even she could pick up on brewing beneath his skin and whatever it was manifested in a distrust of Becca. She could see that the young witch felt his apprehension and when she called him out and he managed a grunt, Rita knew something was up. Whatever it was, it probably had to do with his need for her safety and she immediately felt the guilt well up inside of her. She hated that she was putting everyone else in these situations – that it was her healing causing all of this.

Rita didn't have to be a witch to feel the "bad tingly" in the air.

With a bit of newfound strength, thanks largely in part to Becca, Rita braced her hands on both arm rests before she tried to push herself up just enough. She just wanted to slip from the arm chair and over to the couch which was only a few inches away. Leon was there anyway, perched on the edge of that closest seat, and she knew if she pushed herself just far enough he would be there to help her. His attention would be far from Becca if she was moving, especially when Rita knew that was the quickest way to get his attention.

Because the wince on her face was clear, but Rita muscled her way towards him until she managed to slip half onto his lap and curl herself into his side. It was movement only made possible by Becca and she could feel both the young witch's and Nate's eyes on her as she moved. Rita let her fingertips trail down his jaw line until she managed to nudge his attention to her. "Relax, okay?" she said, just loud enough between them. She him to help her stay upright, but more than anything, he seemed to need her in that moment. If there was one thing Rita understood, there was something about her that not just reached Leon, but whatever primal instinct had reared its ugly head within him.

"That's awesome, Becca," Rita replied, turning her attention back towards the red head who was near halfway across the room to get away from Leon, "I'm sure if you're involved, Nate's got nothing to worry about. You nervous?" She turned her attention towards Nate, who had been eyeing her the whole time.

He blinked twice and stood, walking with his hands in his pockets until he could take a seat in Rita's old seat to try and ease the tension. "Nah, what's the worst that can happen," he shrugged, "if you can survive a gunshot wound, I can manage a seizure or two."

"Not that Becca is gonna cause a seizure," he added, glancing at the redhead knowingly, like this was a conversation they'd had before. It made Rita smile to know in her absence at least they had found some solace in one another. "But y'know," he shrugged, "shit happens."

"It'll be fine, and we'll be there when it happens, so there's nothing to worry about."

"You alright, Leon?" Nate said finally, eyeing the man next to her, "Relax, I'm not trying to eat her, we're just talking. Take a fucking chill pill, would you?"

 

[Acorn]

He stared at Becca unblinkingly. Bad tingly? Static? What the fuck was she on about? That time he'd nearly gotten into a fight at the restaurant, he'd rushed to Rita's side after that guy had grabbed her, placed himself between them so he couldn't touch her again. He'd felt angry, the lights had buzzed, he could remember the smell of garlic on the man's breath as if he stood there at that very moment. His lip snarled up in distaste, but the look faded as quickly as it appeared because Rita was on her feet, unsteady and heading his direction.

Leon didn't have time to get up and help her before she was on and wrapped around him, her fingers on his face, pulling all of his attention to her. Relax, she said, and he found he could with her there, pressed against him so he could feel her warmth. He took in a deep, shuddering breath and exhaled slowly, never taking his eyes from hers until she turned to pick up the conversation with Becca again. He lowered his head a notch, focused on his breathing and on Rita, and felt most of the tension in him dissipate— except for a single ember that he couldn't snuff no matter how many breaths he counted or how much he fixated on how it felt for Rita to be there with him.

It was an ember that flared to life and burst into flames as Nate blew on it.

Leon's head snapped up and he glowered at the other werewolf. Take a fucking chill pill? And what? Shove it up Nate's ass? He'd been actively working on chilling out, pulled himself from the conversation and was even counting his goddamned breaths.

"The fuck you think I was doing? Go fuck yourself," he spat.

 

[Meraki]

"Go fuck myself?" Nate scoffed, "Christ, Leon. You're the one eyeing us like one of us is going to fucking lunge at her, alright? You don't get to look at Becca like that and then get coddled. You really wanna look at me like that? Like you're gonna jump up and rip my throat out too?"

Rita shifted form Leon's hold and leaned to interject, "Nate, don't—"

"Don't what, Rita? Speak the fucking truth? He hasn't left your fucking side since you got shot and I get it. I do. But like hell I'm going to let him sit here and treat us like shit after we did everything in our power to help you, too."

"I know you did, I do—" she started.

"Rita, stop," Nate growled, "This isn't about whether or not you're grateful."

Immediately, Rita felt herself grow guilty for the entire encounter and when Leon stood, she felt the anxiety rise up in her chest. She wanted to bound up and step between them, but she couldn't. She couldn't do a damn thing. "How about you go fuck yourself? Because whatever this shit is? It's not healthy and I'm not gonna let your fucking selfishness hurt Rita anymore. Or intimidate Becca anymore. Who the fuck are you becoming, Leon? Do you even recognize yourself?"

"You wanna fight me? Wanna get in my face? Fucking do it, Leon. I fucking dare you."

"STOP!" Rita screamed as she pushed herself up to her feet, but immediately her knees gave way and the pain was back. It radiated through her abdomen with such ferocity that she didn't just wince, but she felt tears well up in her eyes and her hand came to clutch at her wound. It didn't matter about the pain, she just felt like she needed pressure against it for it all to stop. Once she was back seated on the couch, her other hand gripped the arm of the couch and she tried to breathe her way through it. In and out, over and over again.

She had hardly noticed Becca leave and return with Orvar at her side.

 

[Acorn]

Every word Nate spoke and every point he made worked to stoke the fire he'd started, so that by the time Leon stood, he felt like there was a bonfire in his head that his heart danced a beating path around. Nate thought he was selfish? That he was hurting Rita because of it? He'd never hurt Rita. He'd stood by her since she'd been shot, made sure she wanted for nothing, that she was focused entirely on getting better.

He shook his head silently, his hands balled into fists and his mouth all twisted up as Nate continued, demanding to know who he was — like he'd changed in some way. He was still the same man who'd been out of reach when his girlfriend had been gunned down. He'd had to run to her, had to gather her up from the ground and watch her fight for her fucking life. If he'd been closer, he would've taken the bullet for her, and God how he wished he could've. He could've spared her every bit of pain she'd had to endure if he'd just been closer. But because he understood there was no way to go back and rectify the past, he did the next best thing and made sure nothing could hurt her again.

Nate kept on, and the taunt pulled at something in him that he didn't immediately recognize; it snarled and snapped at the impudent pup that dared call into question his ability to follow through with the threat he'd delivered by standing and getting into his face. He didn't hear Rita scream, didn't hear that she fell back to the couch in pain, and he didn't register that Orvar had entered the room until the vampire stood between them, facing him.

"Do pardon the intrusion gentlemen," he said, his face entirely blank but his eyes intent upon Leon, "but as much as it would amuse me to watch you brawl, I'd prefer you not do it in my sitting room."

Becca slipped through the doorway, crouching and making her tall and lanky form impossibly small, and moved to sit next to Rita. She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and reached over with her other hand to hold it over Rita's middle, where the bullet wound was, but she frowned down at her fingers then looked up apologetically at Rita.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I thought it'd work."

"Fucking move," said Leon, and Becca looked up in response to the bright, ringing sound of Orvar's laughter.

"Oh. You're serious, aren't you?"

Leon remained where he stood, his chin jutted out stubbornly.

"In that case, please excuse us a moment, everyone." Just as soon as he'd registered the cold hand on his wrist and arm around his back, Leon was outside in the warm New Orleans air, humid as every other night, with fireflies blinking and bobbing about the well-manicured lawn.

"I need you to look at me, Leon. Look at me."

Leon looked at him and once he did, he felt like he was being pulled into Orvar, anchored in some way, and when he tried to look away, he couldn't.

"There. Now, I need you to listen to me. Rita is not well, and she will not get better if she has to expend all her energy worrying about you. Make yourself right. Go. Walk, run, do whatever you need to. Rita has an entire household looking after her. That leaves you free to take care of yourself."

"Take care of myself?"

Over clicked his tongue in that annoying fucking way he did, then shook his head while he sighed. "You dote on her with the single-mindedness of a wolf protecting one of its pack. Think about that. What you do extends beyond what I would expect from a human."

He opened his mouth, but Orvar lifted a finger and Leon held his protest.

"Do you remember what happened when you forced that other part of you to remain dormant for too long?"

Leon didn't have to answer, his pursed lips said enough. He remembered. Rita had found him in the middle of the bayou after he'd shifted and hunted down a deer, all without being aware of the fact. He'd pushed the wolf back for too long and it'd taken over. How long had it been since then? Four days? A week? He hadn't even been outside the house since they'd brought Rita back, and now that he was outside again, underneath an empty sky instead of a ceiling with dangling ornate chandeliers, he could breathe.

"Go," Orvar repeated. "Rita will be fine."

"Can't I at least tell her that—"

"You may not. I will let her know. You may return when you've gotten whatever this is out of your system. Now go."

This time, Leon didn't argue.

 

[Meraki]

It all happened so fast.

One moment Leon was there in Nate's face, the next the room was empty save for Rita, Becca and Nate. She'd registered Orvar for a moment but did not hear his words, instead she just heard that painful, echoing beat of her own heart. It drew up nausea in her chest, a lightheadedness she hadn't felt since waking up after the entire ordeal. She wanted to find Leon, she wanted to make this better, but he was gone. Orvar was gone, and there was nothing she could do. There was no way for her to rectify what had happened. Immediately, without Orvar or Leon in the room, Nate backed down with a quickness Rita had never seen before. When they first met, it seemed like he always carried an air of frustration, but it only took one look at her and Becca before he let it go.

Becca apologized to her, hand on her wound as it throbbed, and Rita shook her head. "It's okay," she breathed out, her words in long drawn out breaths. She was just trying to even it out, to be fine again, but she knew that she wasn't. Being out of bed wasn't hurting her, being around others wasn't hurting her, but trying to mediate? To be everything to everyone at once while she needed to heal? That was hurting her. Though, she missed Leon. She missed his warmth and she worried. She worried desperately about whether or not he was okay and if whatever was rising up in him could be remedied without her – after all, she'd been there with him through every step. She—

"C'mon," Nate said finally as he crouched down, "wrap your hands around my neck, okay?"

Rita did as she was told and in an instant, she was up in Nate's arms, being carried back to her and Leon's room. It felt empty without him there, but Nate settled her down on the bed and knitted his eyebrows together at the sight of a slight redness in her bandaging. Blood. Of course it was bleeding and of course he noticed because she was living in a house of supernaturals with ridiculous noses. She opened her mouth to protest but he just shook his head. "Where'd Leon put your pain meds?"

"Bathroom, I think," she exhaled and settled her head against the pillows. It was hard not to feel entirely exhausted after such an ordeal. She was bone tired, unable to lift herself up if she tried. Nate came back with the bottle in hand and shook out a pill for her before grabbing the water and bendy straw Leon had left. He handed them to her and she took them, ready to do anything to stop the pain that started rolling back over her in waves. "I dunno how you do it, Rita," Nate shook his head, "I really fucking don't."

"Me, Becca, Orvar, Leon – everyone," he shrugged, "How do you not go insane? How do you not just get in our faces and smack some sense into us? I just fucking can't."

"It's just how I've always been," Rita said finally, her body letting out a deep, collected sigh at the feeling of the pain meds starting to work. "My parents were night and day. I was their only kid, so it just made sense. I was the only thing they could ever agree on."

"Doesn't seem fair for a kid, honestly."

"Neither does running around alone in the woods," Rita said gently, "we've all got our crosses to bear."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Nate let his lips turn into a tired smile before he exhaled and placed his hands on his knees to push himself standing, "You should get some rest. I've got a feeling that when he gets back, Leon's not really gonna wanna be anywhere else but here. If you need anything, just call. We're all here."

"Thank you, Nate."

"One more question," he turned over his shoulder to look at her, "For someone who's a human in a supernatural world, you spend a lot of time worrying about everyone else."

There was a pause and Rita raised an eyebrow, "I didn't hear a question?"

Nate rolled his eyes, "Why? Why spend so much time worrying about them more than yourself? Even after you've been shot."

"Why else do we do what we do?" Rita yawned, her eyes fluttering closed under the weight of her pain and pain meds, "Because I lost someone and I never want to do it again."

"Will you tell me about it sometime?"

She nodded sleepily and nuzzled into her pillow. "Yeah," she whispered, "sometime."